


Sofa Surfers

by torenhoog



Series: A Series of Sofa's [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, and other places - like Jody's living room, the bunker needs all the sofas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 20:04:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13325502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torenhoog/pseuds/torenhoog
Summary: Cas and Dean get thrown out of IKEA’s, there’s confusion about a sofa (or is it a couch?) and Dean wants s’mores (his appetite for pizza is a given). Sam just wants to lock Cas and Dean in their bedroom.





	Sofa Surfers

 

After they get thrown out of IKEA’s for the third time - a different store than the first two times - they agree to a change of tactics.

“That manager had no right to be this angry, we didn’t bother anyone. And we took our shoes off,” Dean grumbles.

Cas tilts his head. “Do you think they didn’t like us kissing each other?”

“Then they’re homophobic, even worse!”

“A store is a public space, Dean. Would you lie down on a park bench with me like that?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Are you certain? You don’t even want to hold my hand when we walk on a public street.”

“That’s different! I’m not… no chick -“

“If you say ‘no chick flick moments’, I’ll divorce you this instant.”

“We aren’t married, Cas, you can’t divorce me.”

“Then maybe we should, so I can.”

“That makes no sense at all, you moron.” Although Dean knows Cas is shitting him, he still gets a kick out of Cas saying a thing like this. Because it means Cas has been thinking about staying with Dean. It means Dean doesn’t have to be anxious anymore about Cas leaving anytime soon. His face softens into the beginning of a smile.

Cas smiles brightly in return. “Yes, and now you’re not angry anymore.”

Dean opens the front passenger side door of the Impala. “Get in, let’s go home.”

On the way back to the bunker they resolve to test all sofa’s they encounter wherever they go, and stay out of IKEA’s for the foreseeable future. And to have pizza for dinner.

 

* * *

 

“Dean, didn’t you say you’d help Jody make dinner?” Sam enters Jody’s living room, drying his hands on a towel. “What are you doing anyway, braiding your boyfriend’s hair?”

Dean, who is sitting on Jody’s sofa, turns his head to look up at Sam but doesn’t stop playing with Cas’s hair. Since that first kiss in the Room of Requirements, after their trip through the magical sofa that’s now a pile of ashes behind the bunker, Dean gives in to his perpetual need for touching Cas whenever he can. Now he’s finally allowed, he doesn’t have to rely on his imagination anymore; now the only thing he has to do is reach out. “We’re sofa surfing.”

Cas, who is lying with his head in Dean’s lap, hums in agreement without looking up from the screen of the laptop perched on his stomach.

Sam flings the towel over his shoulder and raises his eyebrows. “It’s called couch surfing, and since you don’t sleep here tonight -“

“Couches are for shrinks.” Dean shudders. “Don’t want my brain turned inside out, need a big, soft sofa that fits me ’n’ Cas both. Bigger than this one.” 

While typing, Cas says, “According to the lore -“ 

Dean doesn’t let him finish. “What lore? There’s no lore on sofas.”

Cas glares up to Dean. “We get most of the information we use for solving cases from the internet, how is this any different?” 

“Huh. Well then, let’s hear it.”

“According to Merriam-Webster, a sofa is a long upholstered seat, usually with arms and a back. A couch is, A, an article of furniture for sitting or reclining, and B, a couch on which a patient reclines when undergoing psychoanalysis.” 

“See,” Dean stabs a finger in Sam’s direction, “couch is shrink related. Pass on that one.”

“Quiet, Dean, I’m not finished yet.” Cas sounds annoyed. Dean strokes his hair the way he knows Cas finds soothing. 

“Wikipedia says a couch is a piece of furniture for seating two or three people in the form of a bench, with armrests, that is upholstered. How is that any different from Merriam-Webster’s definition of a sofa?” Cas stares at the screen as if he’s trying to smite the entire internet.

“Sofa and couch is the same thing, is what the lore says. Sammy, you hear that?” But when Dean looks back up to where Sam was standing a few minutes ago, the spot is empty. Jody’s and Sam’s voices drift over from the kitchen, sounding like they’ve got dinner preparations under control. Dean goes back to caressing Cas’s head.

Later that night, when their research keeps hitting the same dead ends, again and again, Jody suddenly asks, “So what are you guys looking for anyway?”

“Like I said, haven’t seen this before,” Dean says. “A monster killing people by poisoning their lungs with some freaky gas. Can’t wait to put the son of a bitch down.”

“Not what I meant. The couch, or sofa or whatever, what’s that all about?”

“Oh, I want a sofa to Netflix and chill on. With Cas. Me and him together.”

“You know what that means, do you?” Sam says.

“Yeah, a fuckin’ huge sofa.” Dean retorts.

Sam rolls his eyes. “You two have a bed to have sex in, man. You don’t need a couch for that.“

Dean doesn’t pay attention to Jody’s guffaw. “Dude, you don’t get to tell me where me and Cas get to fuck. No, you know what, let me tell you… the war table is -“

Sam puts his hands over his ears. “No, I don’t wanna hear it! I don’t need my brain blemished with images of you and Cas boinking on any surface in the bunker.”

Dean grins and winks at Cas, who doesn’t seem fazed by this exchange. Jody is laughing so hard she’s doubled over in her chair and slapping her thigh. It takes half a bottle of wine before she’s able to get back into research mode.

 

* * *

 

Driving home, after the case has been solved, the monster killed and Jody hugged goodbye, Dean spots a nice looking sofa on the side of the road near a dumpster. Without any warning to the other occupants of the Impala, he hits the brakes and is out of the car before anyone has a chance to stop him. He regrets his Speedy Gonzales-y velocity as soon as he’s plunked himself down. The rest of the way home he has to sit on Cas’s trench coat to keep the leather seat from getting spoiled by his wet backside.

Sam doesn’t even try to hide his schadenfreude. “You know it has been raining for the last ten days or so.”

“Shut up. It was a siren sofa, beguiling me with its curvy cushionyness.”

“I’m neither curvy nor cushiony.” Cas, sitting in the back seat, leans forward, warming Dean’s neck with his breath. “How do I even stand a chance against such a formidable rival.” 

“You better check the lore on siren sofas then, in case you need to defeat one. If it comes to a duel in my honor.” Dean starts turning his head with the intention of kissing Cas.

Sam smacks Dean’s arm. “Dude, like you have any honor to defend. And keep your eyes on the road!”

 

* * *

 

Going on Sams facial expression, Dean went too far on this one. Under the pretext of 'could I use your bathroom, please' he was checking the second floor of the house when he found it. A handsome, brown leather sofa in the middle of a beautiful study slash library room. When Sam enters the room, Dean is spread out on the sofa with his eyes closed, lamenting the fact that Cas didn’t join them on this particular hunt. Instead of testing this awesome sofa with Dean, Cas is three states over hunting a wendigo with Claire.

“Dean, you can’t just wander off for a nap in a victim’s home. While downstairs someone’s crying because her wife’s in a coma.”

Dean gets up with a sigh, stroking the upholstery one last time. They could never afford a leather sofa like this, and it would be kinda rude to… Hold on, that’s an excellent plan. Not like they get paid or anything. ”Sam, why don’t we ask for this sofa as a thank you gift?”

“Seriously? Thanks for what? We still have work to do, like figuring out what we’re dealing with in the first place.”

After a few days, they manage to wake up the victim from her coma by killing the creature that caused it. Dean is too moved by the reunion of her and her wife to ask for the leather sofa as payment, at least that’s what he tells Cas afterward. Cas doesn’t mention that Dean always calls the saving people part of hunting a reward in itself. They celebrate their own reunion, after two very long weeks of not seeing each other, with all-night-sex. In their bedroom this time, because Sam’s also home. Though not necessarily in bed.

 

* * *

 

Sam discovers the perfect sofa while they’re on a ghost hunt. Well, almost perfect. At least it’s way more comfortable than the sofas on display in the second-hand shop Cas dragged Dean into, and it smells nicer than the ones in the coffee shop Cas insisted on visiting four times to try all their shitty sofas (the coffee was worth it though).

Dean finds Sam spread out on a sofa patterned like the failed experiment of a fifties monster movie scientist who tried to mix a tiger with a bunch of flowers.

“Dean, look, this couch is big enough even for me.”

“Dude, your head is on the armrest. And the thing is fugly as hell.”

“That’s all right, means I don’t need a pillow. Come on, try it.” Sam stands up and gestures from the sofa to Dean and back again.

When Dean is lying on his back with his arms above his head, testing the give of one armrest with his hands, his feet crossed on top of the other armrest, he decides he never wants to get up again. He wouldn’t mind falling asleep right here, right now. Yes, this sofa will do. “Wait, sure this thing isn’t haunted?”

“Well, the spirit of the last owner of the house just went up in flames, I think we’re good,” Sam replies.

Where’s Cas? Last Dean saw him he was on the other side of the house. Fortunately, the guy’s hearing is not too shoddy. “Caaas! Need you over here. Sofa test!”

As soon as Cas enters the room and sees Dean stretched out on the sofa, he flops down on top of Dean. 

“Oompf.” Dean wraps his arms around Cas. “You know, you’re heavier than you look.”

Sam sighs. “Guys, keep it in your pants until we’re home and I can lock you in your bedroom.”

“You’re just jealous.” Dean hugs Cas a bit tighter.

“Dean, why would Sam be jealous? He doesn’t want to chill on a sofa with you. Or me.”

Sam, who is now leaning against the nearest wall, crosses his arms. “According to the sheriff, the house has been uninhabited for months.” 

“What about family?” Dean asks.

“The sheriff told me the deceased didn’t have any close relatives, and nobody has claimed any of his stuff. I don’t think anyone minds if we take this couch home.” Sam pushes his gigantor body from the wall. “I’m going to pack our things.” Walking out of the room he says, “Please don’t soil the couch, it’s mine too.”

Dean tries to stand up while Cas is still lying on top of him, resulting in a disgruntled Cas sprawling on the floor. Dean, still on the sofa, looks down at him. “What are you waiting for? Get up, we need to find a truck.”

 

* * *

 

A few weeks later things start disappearing from the tv room they set up in one of the storage rooms near the kitchen. When his car keys are missing again, Dean has had it. “That’s it, I reached - no, my limit is miles behind me. We’re dealing with a second Harry Potter sofa! Let’s burn the evil thing.”

Sam looks up from the book he’s reading. “I thought you didn’t want to know about the wizard boy who lives in a closet under the stairs. Because it was ‘too silly even for your brain’, if I remember it right.” Wow, Sam uses air quotes, since when is he imitating Cas?

“Shut your… OK, I read the books. Twice. Happy now?” 

Sam turns back to the book in front of him. “I always assumed it was the closet part that made you uncomfortable. But I suppose you’re out now.”

“I was never in… I just never told y-” That’s when Dean notices Sam’s shoulders are shaking. ”Fuck you, I’m outa here.” 

Sam’s laughter follows Dean all the way to the kitchen. 

Two days later Cas finds the majority of their missing stuff inside the cabinet underneath the tv. “It smells unpleasant in here, I was looking for what caused it.”

“Is that the pizza we had last week?” Dean sniffs at the limp slice Cas is holding up. “Not gonna eat that, this pizza has gone over to the dark side.” 

“I’ve noticed cold spells in here as well.”

“Wouldn’t know, you radiate warmth like a furnace.” Dean wraps his arm around Cas and kisses his cheek.

Cas bumps his hip against Dean. “We should measure the EMF-level in this room.”

“No use trying. The bunker makes EMF-meters go haywire, ‘cause of all the wiring in the walls, I guess. Do you think it’s a ghost?”

“I was thinking the sofa could be haunted, and bringing it to the bunker has made the spirit restless.”

“Well, that makes more sense than another magical sofa. Let’s ask Sam if he noticed anything weird. Other than things gone missing, I mean.”

Turns out Sam has been thinking along similar lines as Cas, having felt the tv room suddenly getting colder too last night. “And I thought I saw a shimmering in the air when I turned the tv off.”

“So we’re dealing with a shy Casper? Wonder why it steals our things,” Dean says. 

“Perhaps it’s on its way to becoming a poltergeist,” Cas puts forward.

“Could be. We probably disturbed its peace by removing the sofa from its home,” Sam says.

“Got to get rid of it before things start flying around the room and someone starts puking pea soup.”

Sam snorts. “Dean, pea soup has nothing to do with-“

Dean interrupts Sam by bellowing “Burn sofa burn!” A salt and burn without having to dig up a grave, that’s one to look forward to. “We can make s’mores while we’re at it. Have to do some shopping first, we’re out of marshmallows.”

Cas squints. “There never were any marshmallows in the bunker, Dean.”

“Like I said, grocery run. Coming?”

“Wait,” Sam says, “we also need to burn the body, if there is one, to put this ghost to rest. I’ll search the web for previous residents of the house we found the sofa in. You two examine the sofa, see if you can find anything useful.” 

Dean gets his knife out of his pocket for slicing the upholstery, but Cas says, “It’s an exceptionally cozy sofa that took us a lot of effort to get in here, it would be a shame to needlessly destroy it. Let’s search between the cushions first.”

 

* * *

 

“Are you proposing to me? That ring is too small for my fingers.”

“Eh, no?” Is Cas joking? Dean stares at the ring he’s holding between thumb and index finger. “Looks more like a wedding ring than an engagement ring to me.” 

“I’m completely indifferent to the concept of marriage.”

Uncertain about how to interpret Cas’s words, Dean decides to play it cool. “Good, ‘cause I’m not the marrying kind.” Which is true in that marriage belongs to the apple pie life Dean would never have. Never wants to have, not anymore. Since starting this thing with Cas he can’t imagine sharing his life with anyone else, and marrying an angel of the Lord seems ludicrous. How do you promise eternal love to a person who is older than the dirt you walk on? “Cas, you… eh… know I love you, do you?”

“I know.”

“Are you quoting Star Wars to me now?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” Cas takes the ring from Dean’s hand and holds it close to his eyes. “There’s an inscription inside. And you know I don’t want to let go of you either.”

“Yeah… yes, I know.” Dean feels something warm and happy engulf his core. “Wait, inscription? Can you read it?”

“Allison ampersand Frederick 12 slash 6 slash 1987. That’s a date, but what does it mean?”

“Means their marriage wasn’t forever if Allison is haunting this sofa. Let’s get this to Sam, those names and the wedding date will help him find out more.”

 

* * *

 

“Look, a park bench.” Cas points to a playground on the other side of the road. “Let’s go sit there and kiss.”

“No way, man.” 

“Why not? You said you’d do it.”

“It’s just… Can’t be seen like that, not here. We’re Feds to the people in this town, have to keep up the facade.”

“The only thing left to do is burn the body. After that, we leave and never come back. And there are no children in sight. What are you afraid of?”

Indeed, what exactly is it that Dean fears? Being caught necking his boyfriend? Who cares besides him? Sam probably, but he’s at home. Right, that settles it. “Nothing, I guess. If there happens to be another case in this town, we put Sam and Jody on it.” Dean takes Cas’s hand, pulls him across the street towards the bench, pushes him down and straddles his knees. What starts out as chaste, tongueless kissing turns into a heated exchange of saliva within half a minute. A whistle and some shouting bring Dean back to the here and now. Immediately he removes his lips from Cas’s face and his hands from Cas’s hair. Crap, he forgot they’re in a very public place. Dean lowers his head onto Cas’s shoulder, hoping the noise is directed at a disobedient dog, not at them. 

“Let’s go back to the motel, I want to get you naked as soon as possible,” Cas whispers in Dean’s ear. 

“Fuck, we already checked out.”

“Then we get another room.”

Dean loves Cas being practical.

 

* * *

 

After the successful salt and burn of a corpse and a wedding ring, there appears to be no need for a sofa-fuelled bonfire. Cas wants to be introduced to the concept of s’mores regardless, so on a clear autumn night, Dean builds a huge campfire behind the bunker. As Dean expected, Cas prefers watching stars to eating s’mores.

 

* * *

 


End file.
